


Honorable

by Dreamin



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Nobility, Class Differences, M/M, homophobic parent, rich man's son Seb, servant Mycroft
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-09
Updated: 2019-03-09
Packaged: 2019-11-14 05:59:20
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18046841
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dreamin/pseuds/Dreamin
Summary: Once Seb's out from under his father's thumb, he goes after exactly what (who) he wants.





	Honorable

**Author's Note:**

  * For [afteriwake](https://archiveofourown.org/users/afteriwake/gifts).



The Honorable Sebastian Alastair Moran didn’t open his eyes as a glass of water was pressed into his outstretched hand. It was nearly noon and he had just stumbled home from the previous night’s party an hour before. His second-floor bedroom being too far away, he had flopped onto the leather sofa in the library.

“Drink it,” Mycroft Holmes, his longtime butler, commanded. “You’re dehydrated.” He then left two painkillers on Sebastian’s prone chest.

Seb opened his eyes only to roll them. “Aren’t I supposed to be ordering you?” he muttered as he took the pills then drank the rest of the water. “And it’s not dehydration that makes me feel like I was run over. I spent an entire night in the presence of every damn gold-digger on this godforsaken island, that would give any man a headache.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow. “Why don’t you simply tell the world the truth about your sexuality?”

Sebastian chuckled. “And have my homophobic arsehole of a father cut off my funds? That would mean no money to pay your salary.”

“I can always find employment elsewhere but you cannot go on like this. Hiding your true self for too long will only destroy you.”

Seb stood up abruptly, wincing as his headache worsened, and glared at the older man. “Fine talk coming from you. The Iceman, they call you. Antarctica. You’ve got the staff quaking in their boots every time you walk by.”

Mycroft stiffened. “That’s how it should be – Mrs. Hudson and I are the heads of staff.” Mrs. Hudson, Seb’s dear and delightfully eccentric housekeeper, saw the men and women of the staff as her unofficial children.

“They don’t fear Hudders.”

“She’s too soft on them.”

“Whatever,” Seb muttered as he found his jacket on the back of a chair and fished out a packet of cigarettes.  The only thing that kept him from lighting up was Mycroft’s disapproving look. “All I know is that my father won’t live much longer. As soon as he’s gone, the estate is mine and I can live the life I want.”

Mycroft rolled his eyes. “I await the naked photos of you in Las Vegas, then. If that’ll be all?”

“Yes, yes,” Seb muttered, waving his hand dismissively.

Mycroft bowed slightly then left, taking the empty glass with him.

* * *

Sebastian’s father died almost a year later. As soon as the funeral was over, Seb went back to his townhouse and went looking for Mycroft. He found him in the library, dusting.

“Well, since I am officially Viscount Moran,” Seb said, startling the other man a bit, “I know exactly what I’m going to do now.”

Mycroft raised an eyebrow at him. “And that is, my lord?”

“Laying you off, for starters.”

The butler’s face was a sight to behold – first white with shock then spots of red appeared on his cheeks as his anger flared. “And why, after twenty loyal years of service, am I being treated this way?”

Seb grinned. “Calm down, Mycroft. You’re getting a very generous severance package.”

“I don’t care about the money, my lord,” Mycroft spat. “All I want is the chance to serve.”

“You served for twenty years, that’s long enough.”

Mycroft took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. “Why,” he said coldly, “am I being shown the door? Have you found someone to take my place? Or did you suddenly decide you can do everything yourself? You can’t, by the way. The last time I went on holiday, I returned to everything in shambles.”

“Don’t remind me,” Seb muttered then he grinned again. “You’re not exactly being shown the door.”

“I’m sorry? Do you honestly expect me to stay after such a dismissal?”

“Well, yeah.” He approached Mycroft, getting well within the man’s personal space, then murmured, “I expect you to stay because this is our home.”

Mycroft stared at him, dumbfounded. “‘Our’ home?”

Seb murmured, smiling, “I’ve realized over the years that the reason I never had a serious boyfriend is because no matter how many men I’ve kissed, I only ever want to go home to the only constant man in my life. My anchor, if you will. The man who keeps me from completely losing myself to whatever fleeting pleasure comes my way.” He leaned to whisper in Mycroft’s ear, “The man I want to see lose his famous cool.”

Mycroft’s shiver told him more than any words could have. After a heartbeat or two, he murmured, “This … this is why you no longer want me to work for you?”

Seb nodded. “It can’t be a relationship between equals if one’s the employer and the other is the employee.”

“And that’s important to you?”

“God, yes,” Seb murmured vehemently. “I want you to know you’re with me because you want to be, not because you think I’m pressuring you.”

“Might I have some time to think it over?”

“Of course. And to give you a little more to think about…” He gave Mycroft a lingering kiss on the lips. By the time they came up for air, Mycroft looked as dazed as he felt.

“Perhaps I won’t need much time at all,” Mycroft murmured, smiling a bit.

* * *

A year later, the wedding of Viscount Moran and Mr. Holmes was the social event of the season.


End file.
